


in the blood

by antiseed (knightspur)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, some feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 19:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16646330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/antiseed
Summary: Sometimes the way they want each other is good enough.





	in the blood

"You're here because no one wants you, Mingyu," Minghao purrs as he says it, the shining blade of the knife in his hand lying flat against Mingyu's cheek. He flicks his wrist just slightly, enough to knick the line of his jaw and draw one ruby bead of blood out. Mingyu huffs at that, batting Minghao's hand away without regard for the knife, letting the blood run in a thin trail down the side of his neck.

He sits up on his elbows, reaching one hand up to hook around the back of Minghao’s neck, pulling him closer. "Yeah, well, no one wants either of us."

Minghao laughs at that, staring at the sharp embers of Mingyu's eyes with a wry grin. They're a breath from kissing, sharing air between the two of them. He doesn't argue with Mingyu there— it would be pointless— instead he leans forward and kisses him, kneeling on the already mussed bed.

Sometimes the way they want each other is good enough.

Mingyu doesn't kiss cruel like the way he looks like he should with his sharp, handsome features— the hard set of his jaw and the permanent line between his eyebrows. Minghao knows him better than that.

His hand drops from Minghao's neck to slide down his back, pushing so he leans more of his weight down onto Mingyu’s lap. His mouth is soft, despite the strength he uses to maneuver Minghao how he wants, despite the fact that Minghao's already made him bleed.

And sometimes that's what Minghao needs— the way that Mingyu can kiss him and make it seem like worship. It's something apart from trust… he knows there's no breaking that, something apart from the unshakable loyalty that it took him months to win.

Sometimes, he just needs the reassurance that Mingyu isn't going to leave. It's not something he can count on, Minghao knows better than that, but it doesn't stop him from _wanting_ it. It's not a joke to say that no one wants either of them. Minghao is the illegitimate outsider of the Moon family, picked up off the street when his mother vanished and still using Xu as his surname. 

Jun has been the only member of the Moon family that has any fondness for him, and he's shown plenty of it. At first, two years ago when he was ready to hate every member of the family who would have denied his very existence, he didn't understand why all the people who worked for Jun seemed to love him so much. It's fierce, almost, the way he inspires such loyalty in each of them.

Minghao understands it now. Hell, at this point he feels the same way.

Mingyu is a different story— one that even Minghao doesn't know everything about. He was turned over to the Moon’s as collateral on a family debt, useful since he'd already turned to street fighting to try and pay it off. Jun decided he should be put to use as Minghao's bodyguard instead.

As far as Minghao knows, the number isn't that high. Mingyu could pay it off in a year— in six months— and leave just like that. The thought makes Minghao squirm in his lap, leaning forward to kiss him once again.

A year ago, he could barely stand the sight of Mingyu. Now the thought of him leaving makes anxiety gnaw in the pit of his stomach. It makes sense, in a way, that they cling to one another. Neither of them really has a family or a home outside of what they can offer each other.

Minghao kisses Mingyu this time like he wants to devour him, teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough that there's a metallic taint to the kiss. It pries a surprised sound out of Mingyu, his hands tightening their hold at Minghao's back, sliding up his shirt to stroke over bare skin instead.

"Clothes off," Minghao leans back just far enough to mumble against his mouth. His fingers wrap tighter around the handle of the knife, skin heating up the cheap metal. It was a gift from Wonwoo, half a joke. The blade is barely big enough to be called anything other than a pocket knife, but it's sharp and Minghao has found plenty of use for it so far. Mingyu breathes out what might just be a laugh, his lips tilting toward a smirk.

"Make me."

Minghao rolls his eyes, leaning back to pull Mingyu's shirt away from his chest, sawing it open with one eyebrow raised, chuckling when Mingyu pushes it off his shoulders.

"You're such a dick," Mingyu gripes, though from the angle it's impossible to miss how hard he is. Minghao presses his weight forward, grinding their hips together and relishing in the welcome friction against his own cock.

"Stop talking," he presses the very tip of the knife against the hollow of Mingyu's throat. There's no pressure behind the threat, no real danger, but still, Mingyu's throat bobs with a swallow and he falls silent. "Touch me."

He says it like a command, and Mingyu leaps to comply this time, his hands sliding from Minghao's back to his stomach, pushing his shirt up as he thumbs over the definition of muscle there, moving up his sides to seek out his nipples instead. Minghao tries to stop his back from arching at the brief contact when Mingyu rolls his thumb over one hardened bud, but the heat in his stomach is so heavy that his body seems to throb with it.

Mingyu pinches two fingers around his nipple and tugs slightly, this time winning a gasp out of Minghao. He grins slightly but doesn't speak, still mindful of the order. Minghao only drops his arm to pull his own shirt off, tugging Mingyu into another kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else. He grinds his hips forward harder, swallowing when Mingyu immediately reciprocates the motion. Still, he wants _more_.

“Fuck, Mingyu.” It's getting harder to keep his voice sounding even. “I wanna ride you.”

That gets a noise out of him. Mingyu whines, his hips giving an extra jerk forward. Minghao grins, teeth catching the lobe of his ear. “I need you to open me up so I can ride your cock, Mingyu.”

Mingyu opens his mouth and Minghao can see the thought that forms on the tip of his tongue before he snaps it shut again. He likes it when Mingyu listens to him, almost as much as he likes it when Mingyu doesn't listen. He still has the knife in his hand, gripped so hard that his knuckles ache. Mingyu's hand drops from fondling his chest to thumb open his pants instead and Minghao wiggles himself enough to get them off. He leans forward, touching the knife to Mingyu's throat again, careful with the pressure he applies to the tender skin, grabbing the lube that's kept within reach of his bed for this exact reason. He drops it on Mingyu's chest with a nod.

There are scars that pattern his chest already, pale on his tan skin, and it's a lifetime of stories that Minghao doesn't know. They bother him, perhaps more than they should, but he's still getting used to what it's like to care about Mingyu this much; to the point that the smallest details cause him distraction.

Mingyu's fingers are warm against his back, trailing Minghao’s skin with a delicacy that should feel rare. It doesn't, Mingyu was never cut out for this kind of life, and in his smallest touches, it shows too clearly. Without meaning to, Minghao reaches to touch the single scar on Mingyu's stomach that belongs to him— long and still pink from being knit back together. 

There are people, it turns out, who think Jun can be swayed with Minghao as their bait. Minghao himself isn't sure it would do them any good to try to ransom him back to his half-brother, but so far Mingyu has kept anyone from trying. At the expense of being nearly gutted, even.

He doesn't flinch from Minghao's fingers, and maybe the scar isn't such a big deal to someone already littered with them, Minghao can't be sure. Mingyu's fingers, slick and cool, prod at his entrance, teasing around the rim slowly, building on Minghao’s frustration. He retaliates by flicking another small cut into the meat of Mingyu's shoulder, deep enough to make him hiss softly.

Minghao doesn't give an order this time, simply groans out in relief when one of Mingyu's fingers presses inside of him, slow and easy to take with the slickness of it. It only makes him burn with a desire for _more_ , and he rocks his hips back slightly to try and encourage Mingyu along.

It's only a few tentative strokes before he adds a second finger, and Minghao flutters his eyes shut, letting his head tip back between his shoulders. Mingyu is still wearing jeans, and the material is rough against the sensitive skin of Minghao’s thighs, but still, he's only barely resisting the urge to push back and ride Mingyu's fingers. 

Mingyu remains quiet as he adds a third, but leans forward to bite at the junction of Minghao's neck and shoulder, only hard enough to imprint his teeth, shy of bruising.

Minghao strangles a small gasp, digging his nails into Mingyu's arm and shaking his head. “I'm ready.”

Mingyu huffs, twisting his wrist and pressing his fingers against Minghao’s prostate, making him yelp in surprise. Mingyu doesn't pull back but instead presses again and this time Minghao groans, pushing his hips back into the contact.

Mingyu's fingers slide out, leaving Minghao feeling empty, and he weakly lifts himself up to pull off Mingyu's jeans, leaving them bunched around his thighs. He reaches for the lube himself this time, purring as he slides a finger up the flushed shaft of Mingyu's cock, making him jerk. There's a pearly bead of precome at the tip that Minghao swipes his thumb through, spreading it, pausing only to slick his hand with lube before pumping Mingyu's cock.

When he pulls his hand back, Mingyu whines from the back of his throat, giving Minghao a wounded look even as he lifts his hips to align the two of them properly. Mingyu opens his mouth again, probably to scold Minghao to go slowly but a quick raise of Minghao’s eyebrows makes him shut it again with brows knitting together in frustration. Minghao can feel a grin creeping up crooked on his face at the obedience, and tenderly he presses the knife to the angle of Mingyu’s collarbone, laying it flat against his skin.

He keeps his other hand against Mingyu’s shoulder to balance himself, groaning through his teeth as he sinks down on Mingyu’s cock. Mingyu gasps, teeth digging into his lower lip to keep himself from making another sound. Minghao’s nails dig into his shoulder, rolling his hips as soon as they meet Mingyu’s.

“Fuck… there you go,” Minghao says, leaning his head back between his shoulders. He doesn’t give himself time to adjust, bouncing his hips at an uneven rhythm. The stretch and burn of his muscles barely registers in comparison to the tight ball of heat in the pit of his stomach. 

Mingyu grips onto his hips almost like he’s trying to slow Minghao down, his chest rising and falling unevenly while he struggles to catch his breath. Minghao shifts his grasp on Mingyu, the knife slipping out of his fingers and dropping off the edge of the bed. He ignores the loud sound of it clattering to the floor, rotating his hips in a tight circle to help press the blunt head of Mingyu’s cock against his prostate.

With the knife falling to the floor, Mingyu groans like a physical weight has been lifted off of him. His nails scrape over Minghao’s skin, biting another mark in the side of his throat. As tightly as he holds onto Minghao, he still lets him go at the pace he wants, punching small _ah’s_ out of himself every time he drives his hips down against Mingyu’s.

“Minghao,” Mingyu says, whining the name out from the back of his throat. His hands slide down from Minghao’s hips to his thighs, supporting his weight. Minghao doesn’t bother to try and scold him for talking, too focused on trying to fuck the tension out of his own limbs.

“Just…” Minghao says, his voice failing when he grinds down on Mingyu’s cock again. It doesn’t matter— Mingyu catches on to what he wants anyway. He adjusts his tight grasp on Minghao’s thighs and uses it to guide his hips up and down. Minghao’s back arches, one hand slipping away from Mingyu’s shoulders to slide down his chest. Without thinking, his fingers trace along the pink line of the scar on Mingyu’s stomach.

A small, labored breath slips out of Mingyu’s mouth at the touch. He has his eyes half-open, staring up at Minghao in a way that makes his heart feel twice as big as his ribcage will allow.

His orgasm hits him bright and hard— a surprise like a shot to the back. He tightens his grip on Mingyu until he whines softly from in, no doubt carving a whole new series of lines into his back, come smearing on his stomach as well as Mingyu’s.

Mingyu only lasts a handful of thrusts from there— enough to work Minghao up into the trembling aftershocks before he comes as well, pulling out just in time to make a mess of Minghao’s thighs rather than filling him up.

Against his better judgment, Minghao collapses against Mingyu’s chest. His fingers are still touching the scar, feeling how its slightly raised from the rest of his skin. He pulls his hand away, trying not to linger on the thought of it, pressing his thumb into the tiny cut left on Mingyu’s cheek instead.

It all makes him feel… something— better or worse, it doesn’t matter. Mingyu is still there, still breathing heavy underneath him, still not going anywhere.

Minghao shuts his eyes and tells himself that it’s good enough for now.


End file.
